The Magic of Deduction
by AngelinaPen
Summary: After the Second Wizarding War, Sherlock ran, and never looked back. His life as a muggle was fairing quite well until the dark wizard Moriarty returns disguised as a muggle. After his faked suicide Sherlock knew that he must use magic once more. With the approval of the Ministry, he drags John along on this mysterious game of magic and science.
1. Chapter 1

John Watson's POV:

 _I think it's time to move on. Sherlock has been dead for 2 years now and I think I need to move on. I don't mean act like he never existed, but…maybe… just…let him rest in peace. This will be the last time I post whenever I look back at our cases it just makes me sad. I'm even getting married. It's time to leave that part of my life behind me and carry on._

 _For the Very Last Time,_

 _John H. Watson_

I could barely finish my final post. I had to keep revising and editing. I felt for so long that I wouldn't be able to do Sherlock justice with this. He deserved more. I can only hope that someday his name will be cleared. Wherever he is I hope that he's alright.

Sherlock Holmes's POV:

An Avada Kadavra flew passed me and struck the Auror just a stride away. I didn't have time to stop. I must get to the Ministry. I must see Mr. Potter. He may be the only one who knows what to do. Going back to 221b meant I would have to tell John about what happened. I could never do that. He wouldn't believe me anyways. The sound of approaching dementors pulled me out of my thinking. I was in the city. The Deatheaters were still just a stride or two away. The way to the ministry was shown like a map in my head. _Left. Right. Scale the fence. Right. Left. Left. Step into the phone booth and you've arrived._ My pounding heart didn't stop me from making deductions has I rode the elevator to the Head Auror's office. The witch next to me was acholic. She has come in for a hearing about the use of obliviate spell on a muggle bartender. She had toast for breakfast after catching the 2:00 am train. The man next to me I recognized. Draco Malfoy. I had spent my entire first year listening to him go on and on about Potter. While we were eating dinner. While playing Cluedo. Every time he could. He caught me staring.

"Holmes?" He knitted his brow.

"Yes, it's me Malfoy," I muttered. Being a muggleborn Slytherin made you Malfoy's prime target. But, somehow he looked happy to see me.

"Sherlock, merlin's beard it's really you! How's the consulting detective thing been going for ya?" He was more chipper than I remembered. Oh…now I see it. A wedding ring was glowing brightly on his left hand. A picture of what I could presume is his newborn son was poking out of his dress robe.

"It's been…well," I muttered my response. I didn't necessarily want to talk to Mr. Malfoy at the moment.

"I sent you a wedding invitation. I was hoping you would come and play your violin. Remember, every Sunday you would brush off the dust and perform to Slytherin." Malfoy wanted something.

"Your owl must have dropped it." I was lying. Just like I skipped Mr. Potter's wedding, I skipped his. I knew if I went back I would break down.

The elevator chimed. Without turning to say goodbye to Malfoy I continued my walk to Mr. Potter's office.

I found myself staring at a lion-headed knocker with chipped gold paint. He has many visitors. The knocker its self-was almost completely devoid of paint. Mr. Potter hadn't replaced the rug outside the office. It reminded me of her. Don't think about that Sherlock. She's in Azkaban rotting away. You are safe. I knocked.

"Give me a minute!" I heard a shuffling of papers. A head of disheveled black hair and crooked glasses peeked out of the door.

"Holmes?" Harry Potter asked.

"It appears that way," I responded.

"Come in." He held the door for me as I pulled up a seat.

"I know you wouldn't come back unless it was something important. So…what happened?" He asked. I avoided his question.

"Ginny isn't doing well, is she? She has dragonpox. You wanted to stay home today but the paperwork is piling up and you're just getting by with work as it is. Your oldest son, James, just had his birthday and the cake had too much blue food dye staining your teeth blue. You haven't gotten the chance to spell the color because of your newborn, Albus, he cried through the night. You may want to bring him to a healer. Also, you had a muffin for breakfast." I stated.

"That's nice Holmes. But, I don't think you came here to talk about me." Potter said.

"There's a Deatheater population in London," I said through clenched teeth. Potter was never impressed by my deductions.

"Moriarty?" He was sitting on the edge of his seat.

"Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

p class="MsoNormal"Sherlock's POV:/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Mr. Potter sat at the edge of his chair./p  
p class="MsoNormal""You understand that no one, sorcerer and human alike, must have no idea Moriarty exists." Mr. Potter must think I'm idiotic. Of course, I know that./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I understand. But, I could not kill him. Moriarty walks free, and even more dangerous than before." It hurt to choke those words out of my mouth. I know my position was revoked years ago, but somehow I still feel that responsibility weighing heavy on my shoulders./p  
p class="MsoNormal""We both know he couldn't care less about the secrecy of the wizarding world. What could possibly make him more deadly?" Mr. Potter inquired./p  
p class="MsoNormal""He has made a Horcrux."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"John's POV:/p  
p class="MsoNormal"I returned to the flat. It looked just the same, but with a few more layers of dust. His violin sat untouched on its stand. Mrs. Hudson ran after me./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I couldn't bare cleaning the place out or even cleaning it for that matter. He never liked me dusting." I could see the pain between her lighthearted statements./p  
p class="MsoNormal""I guess I came to just let go. Know that all of those adventures were real and no one can tell me different." I said./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Are you immigrating?" Mrs. Hudson always asked the oddest questions./p  
p class="MsoNormal""No. No. Certainly not! But, I think that we should clean this stuff out." I felt a lump in my throat./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Do you really think you'll be okay?" She asked./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yes, I'm proposing tonight. It's time to move on." I said./p  
p class="MsoNormal""What's his name?" Mrs. Hudson looked oddly interested in my personal life./p  
p class="MsoNormal""It's a woman, and her name is Mary," I answered. This was a daily thing when I was living with Sherlock. She always thought we were dating./p  
p class="MsoNormal""A woman! Wow! You really have moved on!" She put her hands on her hips and let out a laugh, "Well I'll just let you say your final goodbyes to the place."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"I could barely hear her footsteps down the stairs. I found myself checking the fridge. A head sat in the back. It was rotting. On instinct, I turned around to yell at Sherlock who would be sitting or lying on his chair. He would respond, 'It's for science John!' But, when I turned around only his violin sat staring./p  
p class="MsoNormal"What should I do with the violin? Should I keep it? Should I throw it away? What should I do with all this stuff? The stack of books haphazardly thrown on the desk. Sherlock's computer. The furniture. I couldn't keep all of it. What would it say about me if I keep it? What would it say about me if I sold it? Mary will help me decide./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Sherlock's POV:/p  
p class="MsoNormal"I could barely contain my excitement. The Ministry had voted to give me permission to ask for John's help tracking down Moriarty. With my trusty trench coat, back on I braved the streets of London once more. Mrs. Hudson was out, at least for a little while. Soon I found myself tuning my violin and peering over sheet music. But, I wasn't here to play the violin. My eyes scanned the room before I shut the curtains and locked the flat door. I shuffled to my bedroom, making as little noise as possible. I felt a wave of nostalgia as I slid a small ornate box from under my bed. Inside a 12 ½ inch, birch, dragon blood core wand laid daring me to touch it and let the magic flow through my veins once more. A firebolt was lifeless on the windowsill. With my wand, back in hand and a firebolt at my side I apparated for the first time in years./p  
p class="MsoNormal"Mycroft had spoken with me about the whereabouts of John, oddly he stated that John may not be happy to see me. Why would that be? A girlfriend maybe? Possibly a new best friend? My breath caught in my throat. It couldn't be! I'm irreplaceable! Ready or not, John, Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead!/p  
p class="MsoNormal"John's POV:/p  
p class="MsoNormal"Tonight. Tonight, I will ask Mary. She has been my light in these dark times, and I know I will never be more in love. I contemplated what my exact words would be while she was in the restroom./p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hello sir, what can I get for you." An annoying waiter said in a French accent. I prayed to any higher power that may be listening that he stays out of my business and lets me talk with Mary in peace. But, I knew, with my crazy life, that will not be the case./p 


End file.
